Justice With a Dash of Vengeance
by Little.Miss.Xanda
Summary: It started with death. It continued with death. Was it any wonder that it would end with death too? Though, maybe it could end with something more than death just this once.


**Disclaimer** : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Written for Quidditch League** **Fanfiction** **Competition – Round** **Nine**

 **Prompt –** **Shakespeare –** It's simple, he's a literary genius, and it's time to remember his work. Each position will be given a play of his to base your story off. You don't have to follow the exact plot, just picking up on a staple of it or a key event would be enough. As long as you mould and modernise these plays into the Potterverse, you're good to go. **Beater 2** **:** Hamlet

 **Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps serving as reserve for Beater 2**

 **Word Count: 2992 according to Open Office**

* * *

 **Justice and a Dash of Vengeance**

He continued sitting in the same chair long after everyone else had left. He felt numb.

His mother was dead. Dead. He had no one now. No one, but his drunk of a father who would rather see him buried beside his mother.

"Severus?"

He glanced up, noticing a woman he had never seen before standing behind him. He may have never seen her before but he knew her type. Everything about her screamed wealth, and he hated her just a tiny bit. He was dressed in rags for his own mother's funeral, yet this stranger was draped in the finest silk.

"Yes?"

She smiled, and Severus couldn't find any comfort in it.

"We have never met, but I was a close friend of your mother. We were as close as sisters."

Severus almost sneered. If they were such close friends then where was she when his mother was being beaten into submission?

"Your mother left a will stating that she wanted her son to be raised by me in the Wizarding World. She gave me custody over you."

"What about my father?"

Not that Severus cared about the man that had contributed to his birth. But the man was his father, surely he had rights.

"He's a muggle," the witch stated, just a slight trace of distaste in her tone. "I am magical, as was your mother, as are you. My claim on you supersedes the one your father has. If he were magical things would have been a little more complicated. As he is a muggle, he has no rights to you. Of course, you will be able to visit him when you desire it, but your guardianship is mine and my husband's."

"I see." Severus looked away. His mother had finally done something right by him, it was just a shame that it took her death for it to happen. At least he was away from his father.

"My name is Dorea, by the way. Dorea Potter."

Severus' blood froze in his veins.

"Potter?" his even tone belied the turmoil of emotions he was feeling.

"Yes." She smiled at him, and Severus almost recoiled. Now that he knew what to look for he would recognize that smile anywhere. "I have a son your age. He's a Gryffindor. Took after his father in that, but his personality, well... that's all me." She chuckled, seemingly not noticing how pale Severus had become. "That boy may be the Potter Heir, but he's a Black through and through." The smile stretched a little, and Severus contained a shiver. That was the smile that preceded some of the most humiliating moments of his short life. "Come along now, Severus. It is time to present you to the rest of the family."

She turned, and Severus had no choice but to follow after her. When she grabbed his arm to apparate him away he was sure that he would have been better off with his father.

* * *

He continued sitting in the same chair long after everyone else had left. He felt numb.

His father was dead. Dead. He had no one now. No one, but his bastard of an uncle who would rather see him buried beside his father, and a mother that was so consumed by her grief that she had run into her brother-in-law's arms before his father's body had had the time to cool.

How could this have happened? His father had been a healthy wizard, one of the most powerful of his generation too, and not just when it came to magical power. His father had been an influential Lord, having amassed a large following in the Wizengamot. The only one who truly could stand on even footing with his father had been Lord Gaunt. Harry had only met the man once, but had immediately understood how that Lord had been able to stand equal to his father.

All that power was now in Severus' hands, and Harry hated it.

That man had no right to sit on the Potter seat. He didn't deserve it. Harry didn't care that it was only for one more year, until he reached his majority. Severus should never have had the Potter ring to begin with.

Wasn't it enough that he was warming his mother's bed the second her husband had been declared dead?

"Harry."

Harry turned around when he heard his best friend's voice.

"Yes?"

Ron sighed and walked towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It does you no good to stay here. Go home."

"Home... home to see the disgrace my mother has become? She didn't even mourn my father before she was gracing the bastard's bed."

Ron winced and looked away from the deadly glare on his friend's face. He could understand Harry's anger. He would have reacted the same way if it were his parents. But he didn't care about Harry's uncle and mother. He cared about Harry. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to lose more than he already had. He didn't want for Harry to lose himself to the bitterness that he could see growing in his friend by the second.

"Do you want to stay with me? I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind."

Harry looked one last time at the grave of his father and nodded. He let Ron grab his arm and lead him away. He trusted Ron to take him somewhere where he could mourn his father in peace.

* * *

"Harry, mate, wake up." Ron was shaking his shoulder, and Harry turned away, burying his head in his pillow. He had no wish to join the world of the living quite yet.

"Come on, mate, something arrived for you."

Harry turned slightly, one eye peeking at his best friend.

"Wh' is it?" he mumbled into his pillow.

"I don't know. But it's wrapped in Potter colors."

Harry jumped out of bed, stumbling on the sheets wrapped around his legs and falling flat on his face. Grumbling about stupid, best friends when Ron burst out laughing instead of helping him up, he got on his feet.

"Where is it?" he asked, and Ron, who was still laughing, pointed at a small package on his desk. Ron had been right. The package had been wrapped in Potter colors: red, black, and silver.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he picked it up. Who would be sending him something wrapped in Potter colors?

Ron had stopped laughing and was observing him, making sure there was nothing harmful in the package.

He opened it, only to gape when he saw what was inside.

"Is that a pensieve, mate?" Ron asked, stepping closer. "I've never seen one that small."

"I have." Harry frowned at the pensieve. "I think this was in the Potter Family Vault."

"There's a memory in there, Harry. Do you know who it is from?"

Harry shook his head, eyes still fixed on the small silver pensive.

"Do you want to see it?"

"I..." Harry stopped and frowned at the pensieve. Did he want to see it? He had no idea who had sent it to him. Did he want to know what some unknown person wanted to show him? Harry would be the first to admit that his curiosity had gotten him into more trouble than was probably healthy. He could only hope that this wasn't one of those times. "Yeah, I do."

Ron nodded, his expression serious. "I'm coming with you."

Harry knew from his tone that there was no arguing with his friend. Ron could be rather stubborn when he wanted to be.

Both touched the memory at the same time, and then they were falling.

Harry looked around once they were inside the memory, and couldn't stop the intake of breath when he turned around and saw his father sitting in his usual armchair smiling at him.

"Harry."

"Dad," Harry murmured, tears that he had refused to shed the previous day gathering in his eyes.

"If you are seeing this, then I am dead. I am truly sorry I left you. It was never my intention." James sighed, and closed his eyes. Harry observed ever movement with obsessive care. He wanted to imprint every second of it into his memory. He felt Ron move to stand beside him, but Harry didn't spare him a glance.

"I fear my death was not a product of natural causes and, even though I have no proof, I believe that it was Severus who killed me. As you know, Severus never felt anything for either of us but contempt. That alone would be enough to suspect him, however I also know that he fancied himself in love with your mother, and had wanted her since before she agreed to date me."

Harry could hardly contain his snort; of course Severus wanted his mother. Everyone with eyes could see it. It was shameful to see him lusting after a married woman.

James opened his eyes and looked straight at Harry.

"I feared for your safety much more than mine. As a ward of the Potters, he became eligible to claim the Potter inheritance if all the blood Potters were to perish. I believe Severus will try to seduce your mother, as much for his own desires, as well as to produce an heir. With your death and an heir on the way Severus would be able to claim Lordship, while for the moment he is only a regent until you claim your Lordship. Though before my death I made sure that if he wanted the Potter fortune he would never be able to get his little hands on it." James' smile was nothing short of vindictive. "I changed the Potter charter before my death."

Harry gaped at his father.

"Only a Potter by blood will be able to claim the Lordship. I hope that will keep you safe for a least a little longer. I hope my death protects you in ways that I was not able to in life."

James smiled, his eyes softening.

"I love you. I hope you know that, son. I love you more than anything. I can only hope that all of this will be enough to protect you. Be happy, Harry. I love you."

The memory started dissolving around them, and Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to see more, to be with his father longer. But the next moment they were back in Ron's room.

Silenced reigned in the room for all of three seconds, then a window blew up.

Ron winced, knowing how his friend got when he was upset. On those occasions it was always best to let him rage, and stay out of his path.

"Harry..." he cautioned his friend, paling slightly when those green eyes locked on him. "Please, Harry, don't do anything hasty. Don't let revenge rule you."

"It isn't revenge, Ron. It's justice."

* * *

Even though Harry had wanted nothing more than to go to Potter Manor and kill Severus, he restrained himself. He spent the next couple of months with Ron's family.

However that morning, his resolve to not be hasty was shattered.

A party! Severus had the gal to throw a party to celebrate their bonding.

Harry sneered down at the invitation that had arrived, as well as the letter requesting – more like ordering – him to go back to the Manor.

Who was Harry to disappoint his dear uncle?

* * *

The party was in full swing, and Harry had been able to avoid a confrontation with Severus and his mother. No matter how enraged he was, he was far from stupid. He wouldn't kill the man in front of so many witnesses.

However his luck couldn't last and, sooner that he would have liked, he was cornered by both of them.

He sneered when he saw his mother hanging on Severus' arm.

"Where have you been, Potter?" Severus demanded, and Harry had to stop himself from ripping the man's tongue from his mouth.

"Away," came his frosty reply, his eyes narrowing.

"Your mother has been worried about you."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and looked at the woman who had lost all of his respect.

"Was she? I am surprised she was able to leave your bed for long enough to notice that I was not here." It pleased him greatly to see the blush tainting her cheeks, though it was nothing compared to the hate filled glare he was getting from Severus.

"Do not speak to Lily like that!" Severus snarled. "You're not even worthy of breathing the same air as her."

"Spare me the dramatics, Severus." Harry's eyes sharpened, and his magic slipped from his control making it harder to breathe. "You think yourself so clever don't you, Severus? You didn't fool my father even for a second. You can stop trying to produce a little bastard with her. My father changed the charter before you were able to kill him. No one but a true Potter will be able to claim the Lordship, or the estate."

"What is he talking about?" his mother asked, frowning slightly.

"Nothing, Lily dear. We have discussed this. The boy was so attached to his father. He's coming up with all sorts of conspiracies to try and deal with his passing."

His mother nodded, looking at Harry with concern.

Harry sneered in disgust. "And this is supposed to be the brightest witch of her generation? What a disappointment."

He walked away, knowing that if he spent even one more second with them he wouldn't be able to control himself.

He was considering leaving, when he spied a familiar face in the crowd.

He made his way forward, knowing he had captured the man's attention when those intense eyes locked on him. Almost ten years had passed since he had seen the man, but he looked the same. Wavy, brown hair, sharp, aristocratic features, and the most intense red eyes he had ever seen.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Gaunt.

"Lord Gaunt," he greeted, bowing his head slightly.

"Heir Potter." Harry contained a shiver. There was just something about the man that was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

"Please, call me Harry." He smiled when he felt wards go up around them to keep their conversation private.

"Harry... You may call me Tom. Please accept my condolences for the loss of your father. He was a man that I could respect."

Harry's smile was sincere when he looked at the older man.

"Thank you, that means a lot coming from you. I know my father respected you, even though he would never join your faction in the Wizengamot."

"Even though I would have liked the additional power that we would have gained had he added his faction to mine, I have to confess that it was quite entertaining to have someone in the Wizengamot that could actually stand up to me. It was refreshing."

"Would you still be interested in the loyalty of my father's faction?"

Those red eyes sharpened, and Harry could feel the wards around them strengthen.

"What are you saying, little Potter?"

Harry shivered at the underlying hiss caressing the words. He knew he wasn't talking to Lord Gaunt anymore. Now he was talking to Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord.

Everyone knew about the Dark Lord, but very few people knew who he was. His father had known through his mother, and had shared the knowledge with him. His father had cautioned him, telling him that things weren't always what they appeared, and that Lord Gaunt was the perfect example of it. Even knowing what he knew, his father had respected this man, and Harry could understand why. Even as Lord Voldemort the man never caused senseless death, he protected the Wizarding World and their traditions. He fought for what he thought was right, no matter the means. As far as Harry was concerned, he was someone worthy of respect, even if neither he nor his father agreed with all of his beliefs.

"My father changed the Potter charter before he was murdered." Voldemort's eyes gleamed at the word murdered, his gaze flickering briefly to Severus and his mother, his eyes narrowing.

"Severus was speaking about changing a few things, now that the Potter dunderhead – his words – wasn't on the seat."

Harry's smile was all teeth, and there was a pleased glint in Voldemort's eyes.

"Only one with Potter blood may take the seat, though only if he is the last in the family."

"I see," Voldemort murmured, his eyes following the couple for a moment before focusing back on Harry. "I believe, Harry, that I will enjoy my time with you much more than I did with your father."

Harry smiled, his eyes glittering with vengeance, and Voldemort chuckled.

"Yes, much more."

* * *

He continued sitting in the same chair long after everyone else had left. He felt free.

His uncle was dead. Dead. He had no one now. Not even his mother. She had killed herself not long after Severus had died in a tragic potion accident.

Most people believed that the grief of losing two husbands in such a short time had driven her into insanity. She had drowned herself in one of the bathtubs in the Manor. Did it make him a bad person that he couldn't truly bring himself to grieve for her? The mother he had once loved had been long gone, twisted by Severus and his poisonous words.

"Harry."

He glanced back; standing there was Lord Gaunt.

"Yes?"

Tom chuckled, his eyes glittering, and Harry still found it difficult not to get enthralled by them.

"Let us leave this place. It is time for you to claim your seat, and for us to start our game."

Harry glanced at the two graves and grinned. He took the hand that Tom gave him and followed the man out of the graveyard.

Yes, now that his father was avenged, he could start his own journey.


End file.
